Mime
by Riapariome
Summary: nar·cis·sist /ˈnärsəsəst/a person with excessive interest in or admiration of themselves. has no soul. heartless, inconsiderate, complete and utter assholes that can and will ruin your life. synonym: asshole, shithead, my "its complicated" ex, the one and only Trunks Vegeta Briefs. Who says bad things only come in threes?
1. Preview

nar·cis·sist /ˈnärsəsəst/n. a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves. a person with no soul. the only thing bigger than their inflated ego is the void that they demand others to fill and maybe the empty space left in their big heads. complete and utter assholes that can and will ruin your life. synonym: asshole, my ex, the one and only Trunks Briefs.

* * *

_**Preview**_

* * *

If she could spontaneously combust in that very instant, she wouldn't be mad. In fact, she would march up to King Yemma and give him a big hug. She would give anything to get out of the mess she put herself into. Alas, she was as lucky as a broken mirror and fate was not in her favor. It hadn't for years and Pan knew her luck wasn't about to change any time soon. Today's mishap? She was stuck in an elevator with a mime. Yet **again**.

He wasn't a mime, per se, but as far as she was concerned, he was just as creepy. He seemed to live in his own world, trapped by the air of his pretentiousness. He graced every room with a presence that just screamed 'total and complete asshole' with a dash of 'idiot', 'creep', and 'pest, and the tiniest sprinkle of 'holier-than-thou'. Just as a senseless mime would, his very existence drew people in like maggots.

Engrossed in his farce, men and women alike flocked to him, fawning over him like he was the new Adonis. She couldn't understand how they didn't see him for the piece of shit that he was. He didn't just annoy Pan—that would have been an understatement. He was the bane of her existence; the water to her oil, the fire to her gasoline, the Loki to her Thor. And for some inexplicable reason, as fate would have it, he was standing right next to her.

* * *

_**To be continued! **_

* * *

Hey! Hope you liked the sneak peek to this revamped story! Still making some last minute edits but Chapter One will be up by Monday! For those of you who are coming back, I'd like to extend my gratitude once more! I really do appreciate your support!

Love,

riapariome

see you monday!


	2. First Encounters

Chapter One: First Encounters

* * *

_mime /mīm/: the theatrical technique of suggesting action, character, or emotion without words, using only gesture, expression, and movement._

_hurt \ ˈhərt \ to suffer pain or grief_

* * *

If she could spontaneously combust in that very instant, she wouldn't be mad. In fact, she would march up to King Yemma and give him a great big hug. She would give anything to get out of the mess she put herself into. Alas, she was as lucky as a broken mirror and fate was not in her favor. It hadn't for years and Pan knew her luck wasn't about to change any time soon. Today's mishap? She was stuck in an elevator with a mime. Yet **aga****in**.

How, you may ask?

It had happened once before, on her first day back. She knew that it was inevitable, without a chance to settle in, everything go y.

He wasn't a mime, per se, but as far as she was concerned, he was just as creepy. He seemed to live in his own world, trapped by the air of his pretentiousness. He graced every room with a presence that just screamed 'total and complete asshole' with a dash of 'idiot', 'creep', 'jerk', 'pest', and 'holier-than-thou'. Just as a senseless mime would, his very existence drew people in like the maggots they were. Engrossed in his farce, men and women alike flocked to him, fawning over him like he was the new Adonis. She couldn't understand how they didn't see him for the piece of shit that he was. He didn't just annoy Pan—that would have been an understatement. He was the bane of her existence; the water to her oil, the fire to her gasoline, the Loki to her Thor. And for some inexplicable reason, as fate would have it, he was standing right next to her.

* * *

Monday mornings were definitely not his favorite. For one, they involved countless meetings with his most beloved group of people: the board of directors. The majority were some of the greatest do-gooders in existence: greedy, power-hungry, and envious, with no care for the company's image or his grandfather's legacy. A legacy that he was now forced to protect from the hands of destruction. As much as he wanted to fire the entire board of directors, he could not erase the fact that his grandfather's so-called friends had gained a considerable amount of influence in the company and collectively owned a massive portion of the company's shares. If he hadn't held a firm grip on his position, the board would have had their way the second Bulma stepped down. Since then, he and Goten had been working on dismantling the overgrown parasite that was the board of directors. It had been six months of arduous work, complete with late nights filled with coffee runs and takeout binges. Trunks was quite stressed, to say the least. It was the only thing on his mind, weaving its way through every second of every moment of his life.

Until he saw her on the elevator for the first time.

Goten had told him he hired a 'freelancer of sorts' to help them with their 'project' but he'd been so engrossed in his work that the arrival of a new employee took him completely by surprise. He didn't even remember looking at her resume until he found it his desk that same day. Nevertheless, he began to enjoy having Pan back in his life. To him, her presence was oddly comforting. Seeing her in Goten's office after all those years stirred emotions in his very being that had long been lost to him. Memories of pain and hurt they'd caused each other invaded his very psyche. The feelings he had shut out were now so foreign to him, yet still so familiar. She brought something out of him that was inexplicable. She filled him with a rage that was quickly quelled by something he could not name- it balanced him, completed him and yet it frightened him.

So needless to say, his day automatically got better and more complicated as he entered the elevator to find his dark-haired adversary frantically pressing the 'close door' button. She captivated him in every sense of the word. She was beautiful, but he would never admit it to anyone. If she was pretty then, now she had truly blossomed. Gone were the filthy, cropped, oversized smocks of her youth that she claimed were overalls. They were replaced today by a cream blouse tucked into a pleated lavender skirt that hit just below the knees. The wild ebony curls she once hid under her orange bandana were now pulled into a neat chignon, with a few disobedient members peeping out from the sides. A pair of emerald heels lifted her up, giving her just the boost she needed to reach an even height of 5 feet and 5 inches. She was gorgeous- but who's to say he was looking?

The elevator doors closed and the monitor in the top right side of the elevator began counting the floors as they began their ascent to the 200th floor. Trunks grinned as he leaned on the back wall, his hands in his pockets, "Well, well, well- What do we have here? If it isn't Satan herself coming here to grace us with her presence?" he said coolly. Tightening the grip on the chain of her purse, Pan stood their silently, her eyes on the monitor as 25 flashed momentarily. For once, she wished that the elevator would stop at some random floor- she would have gladly taken the stairs if it meant not seeing him.

"Ooh, cat got your tongue now?" he taunted, "Don't tell me Miss Son is too afraid to bite back?"

She rolled her eyes at his lame attempt to get on her nerves- not to say it didn't work. There wasn't much he could do that didn't piss her off and breathing was on the top of that list. Catching her words, she continued to ignore him, pulling out the mirror in her bag. Suddenly her reflection became a million times more interesting _{He__'__s not worth it, not today}_

"Lost in your thoughts eh?" Trunks knew he was wearing her down. To be honest, he didn't know how far he wanted to go. This was his ex, the same woman that destroyed his life and the same woman that was his closest friend. There was no denying that pushing her to the edge was going to bite him in the ass later on, but he ignored his better judgement. "Surprising, I didn't think you had anything up there. Otherwise, why would you ignore your _old pal_."

Pan could swear her blood froze. _Old pal?_ Was he actually serious? Did he want her to get arrested for assault or was he actually stupid? Both of them knew they were far from being *pals*. Sarcasm or not, he had no right to toy with her like that.

Turning to face him, she gave him a sickeningly sweet smile that chilled his blood. "Excuse me sir, but who are you exactly?" she asked, feigning innocence. Trunks stood up to make a comeback but Pan quickly turned around to face him.

"Sir, I would appreciate if you would refrain from insulting me again. I would _hate_ for an intern like you go and lose the one and only chance he has at being anything in life. So why don't you _scurry _off to your little rat's nest and try to not fuck up." She smiled inwardly, as she looked in her hand mirror to fix the curls popping out.

"_Intern_?" He walked up, his chest to her back. The elevator dinged- they'd reached the 50th floor. "Well, this _intern_ has a lot to learn- doesn't he?" Time seemed to stop as he leaned in. Pan didn't expect this reaction from him _at all_. His lips, now a breath away from her ears, beckoned her to turn around and join them with her own. In her embarrassment, she turned her head the other way. He smirked, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, "Well, why don't you teach me?"

*ding* _the 100__th__ floor_

Trunks expected her to turn her head away. He expected her to push him away, smack him a little- a punch even. What he didn't expect was for her to spit at him, hitting him dead center in the eye.

"What the fuck, Pan?! That's disgusting!" he yelled, pulling away. Who the hell did she think she was, spitting in his eye like that! Never did he expect Pan to do such a childish thing. A punch in the face, sure—he expected that from the former warrior.

"_What the fuck?_ You have the balls to say that after what you just did?" She said in disbelief. "You know, I can sue you for sexual harassment, you filthy pig."

"Sue me for-! You hocked a loogie in my eye, Pan! It was just a friggin' joke!"

"Yeah, you asswipe- I spat in your fucking eye! Honestly, you've always been like this. You haven't changed one bit. Get a life!"

"Always been like what?" he challenged, facing her with one hand covering an eye.

"Like this- childish, lecherous, pretentious, selfish, ignorant, nasty!"

*ding* _150__th__ floor_

"Oh, like you were the perfect angel back then. And I see you've finally hit the books; your vocabulary is _simply astounding_." He replied sarcastically, begrudgingly wiping his eye with his sleeve. A perfectly good suit, ruined.

"Bitch, please—" Pan exclaimed, "I was better than you any day. You were the one chasing after skirts instead of listening when your mommy told you to grow up. _I had a brain and I used it,_ Trunks—something your sniveling ass could never dream of." She said, crossing her arms. Trunks rolled his eyes at her words. She wasn't wrong: they held some truth. But he wasn't about to let her know that. The animosity between them was too great, both equally as proud. For Kami's sake, he wasn't his father and she wasn't her grandfather. They had more sense than that.

"Well I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel about you." He said, facing her dead on.

"You weren't born with enough brain cells to make a good insult!" She said menacingly.

"Is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"You know, I'm thinking about it now- you're just jealous I didn't notice you," she remarked, doing the same.

"I think you're just a bitter hag."

"Oh, so a thought crossed your mind? Must have been _a long and lonely_ journey." She countered.

"Keep talking, someday you'll say something intelligent!" He muttered.

"If I wanted to kill myself, I'd climb your ego and jump to your IQ." She said, clenching her fists.

"Well, fuck off!"

"Fuck you!"

*ding* _200__th__ floor_

The doors opened swiftly, as if to usher the bickering couple out. With each retort, they had gotten closer and closer, to the point where the two were centimeters apart, their faces red and the tension thick. They stayed that way for a few seconds, until Pan broke the silence with Pan was the first to leave, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Pan was the first to leave, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Things seemed to halt on the floor as people slowed down their work pace to observe what was going on between the CEO and the infuriated woman who had just stormed out.

The windows extended from the floor to the ceilings, bringing tons of light into the dreary setting. It was divided into multiple offices, the two largest belonging to Trunks and Goten. The rest of the space was dedicated to the higher ranked employees who were in charge of the more _sensitive_ matters. It wasn't interesting at all- not a place for drama and nonsense. People were uptight and bossy: obsessed with their work and only concerned with getting shit done. But they were people, nevertheless, and people by nature are curious beings. For them to see their CEO with an interesting someone, especially a woman _in an elevator alone_—well, that was enough to spark their curiosity.

Trunks was a blank page at work: his employees barely had any dirt on him. He kept to himself and focused on his work. Anything seemingly of interest came plastered over the covers of the ever so reputable gossip magazines. It was their only source of information on the mysterious purple haired individual and boy was it _juicy_. In the recent years, it was common knowledge that he had a reputation with women and though it had never reached the office, they knew all about his 'racy endeavors'. Almost every employee was well versed in the subject of his flings and his inability to keep a girl longer than two weeks. All eyes were on the elevator as Pan marched off, Trunks hot on her tail. Everything seemed to stop as the scene before them unfolded. _This _was the quality content they subscribed to. For once, work was getting interesting! Trunks, noticing the many pairs of eyes now focused on them stopped to turn to them. Almost immediately, all the employees rushed back to their work, pretending to be engrossed by the papers in front of them. Their jobs were clearly more important than whatever bullshit he was trying to pull.

_Like children_, Trunks scoffed, shaking his head. They were so obvious. Always watching his every move, waiting to see him slip up. Trunks slowly retreated back to his office, watching as Pan made her way to her uncle. He rolled his eyes, knowing very well that she would yell Goten's ear off about how insufferable his best friend was. Goten, of course would shoot daggers across the glass panes that separated their workspaces, his patience wearing thin. A drink and dinner would soothe his anger, and all would be forgotten, just for the cycle to start again the next day. Working with Pan was definitely not in his books, at least for this lifetime. He still had to figure out how exactly this was all going to go. Maybe she had won this battle, but he hadn't lost yet—he had only begun.


	3. Not That Easy

**Chapter Two: Not That Easy**

* * *

Son Goten went to work that morning expecting the regular—a busy day filled with meetings, scheming associates, boring debriefings and such. Of course, there would be someone to complain to him about their 'pointless' meeting and how their CEO was exceptionally inept. Another would burst in with threats of leaving the company, and another would come with news that yet another investor was pulling out. On top of that, he knew he had to work on dismantling the parasitic board of directors. But most importantly, Goten definitely did not have time to deal with his childish best friend and short-tempered niece.

Except every morning, it was a new routine (still, just as frustrating)—either Pan or Trunks would storm in angrily, complaining to him about the other's antics instead of doing their work. Goten sighed as he saw Pan from across the floor. He had never asked for this much stress. He had hoped to live a 'regular shmegular life' with a 'regular shmegular job', marry a babe with killer cooking skills, and have a few kids. He'd train his kids to become powerful Saiyan warriors and eat as much as he desired until he died peacefully in his sleep. But life wasn't easy—it wasn't merciful either. One would think with the childhood he had, that his adult life would be a breeze. He would have rather fought 16 Majin Buus then to deal with the craziness that was his family. It wasn't that he didn't love his job—he loved being able to work with his best friend, to make a more than decent salary and have time to relax (jokes). He and Trunks made a great team, their dynamic was first to none. Contrary to popular belief, the gears were working in Goten's mind. Strategies were once Trunks' thing when they were kids, but he had a mind of his own. He knew how to work around a situation, and he did his job well. But things were getting complicated, and the workload just seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. He knew he needed to get someone on board to help them, but there wasn't anyone he could trust to do the job— except for his niece.

Pan was a business process consultant, and one of the best in Goten's opinion. She worked primarily overseas, and this was her first time back home in years. It was weird for him to see her back. When she had first left, no one would tell him, even though he had a good idea of the reason why. But it was a different thing for him to hear it from her. Assumptions, coincidences, and correlations never told the whole story. At first, it bugged him that Pan didn't feel comfortable enough to confide in him about all that had happened. They had grown up together like siblings, even though he was her uncle. From the minute Pan was born, Goten had sworn to keep her safe, to be the older brother Gohan had been to him.

Except, he wasn't able to keep his promise.

Something in him knew that his reluctance to reach out to her was because he had failed her. That part of him festered, filling his heart with remorse. He loathed himself for a long time. Even still, six years later, those feelings lingered. He didn't want to ask her to help him. It was his last resort. She and Trunks had an intense hatred for each other—one he could never understand— and he knew it would be hell to have them work together. But for their plan to work, they needed someone strong on their team, someone inconspicuous, and she fit the bill. The future of Capsule Corporations was at stake and he couldn't let whatever happened between his best friend and niece come before that. Sacrifices had to be made, his sanity being one of them.

The sound of commotion in the lobby prompted Goten to look away from his work. His heart sank when he spotted his _prized consultant_ making her way towards his sanctuary of an office. He groaned yet again, burrowing his face in the stack of papers in front of him. In any second, she'd come barging in, ranting about Trunks and his stupidity (because his best friend could not, for the life of him, give him a break), and chaos would ensue for the rest of the day. So needless to say, he wasn't surprised when the glass doors flung open, revealing a flustered Pan, and a scowling Trunks trailing behind.

"Son Goten, if you don't get a hold of your best friend, you're gonna be writing a eulogy pretty soon." She threatened, pointing a finger at him accusingly. The doors closed softly behind her, cutting them off from the rest of the floor. Goten rolled his eyes in exasperation at her outburst. He hoped whoever wrote _his_ eulogy mentioned how a certain Pan Son and Trunks Briefs drove him to an early grave.

"What did he do this time?" As soon as the words left him, he regretted it immediately. If her face could get any redder, it did. She narrowed her eyes, her grip on her bag handle tightening. He knew he shouldn't have asked, but if she was going to tell him anyways, why not pretend he cared?

"Ooh, that scoundrel! I swear I'm gonna kill him one of these days and it isn't gonna be my fault. He went and called me stupid! And he _touched me_ with those disgusting hands of his. If it wasn't for you and Bulma, I'd let this company burn. Fuck him!" she yelled, throwing her bag on Goten's overcrowded desk. His face blanched as it made its impact, destroying the neatly arranged piles he was so proud of. Grabbing the loose sheets, he quickly shuffled them,

"I don't think my _new_ _secretary_ should storm into my office screaming like that. People might start making assumptions Pan." Goten commented, not looking once from the papers on his desk that suddenly became interesting. "Remember, they don't know you here. You aren't a hotshot consultant in West City—they can't know what you're here for."

"And to make things worse, I have to be _**your secretary**_?! How outrageous! Ooh I could just—!" she shouted, balling her hands into fists.

Goten liked to think that Pan's hair was in tune with her emotions. When she was sad, it was limp and lifeless, and when she was happy, her curls would pop and shine. But when she was annoyed, well, that was a sight to see. No matter how slick the style or how neat it came out, the minute Pan got irked, it would double in size and turn into a massive ball of frizz. He looked at his niece in awe, as her once perfect chignon self-destructed in a matter of seconds. Her tanned skin was now blotchy and red, making her look feverish and frazzled. Even after Goten tuned her out, Pan was still ranting 20 minutes later—she was a mess and it wasn't even 10 am. Shaking his head, he tapped the desk to get her attention.

"Hey, Ms. Frizzle over there, calm down. Can we focus on important things now?" he asked with a grin on his face. He knew Pan hated that nickname—almost as much as she hated the fact that she was always ignored during her rants. She was about to yell at him for not paying attention, but conceded nonetheless.

"Goten," Pan said, calming down from her fit of rage. "I'm sorry, I know I do this all the time, but he's just- he's such an ass!"

"Pan—" He reminded, "board of directors—let's get to it."

"Okay, fine. The sooner we finish, the faster I can leave." She kicked off her heels, getting up to grab her slippers from her designated drawer. Snatching the papers from Goten's desk, she began her work. It was time to get to business.

"These are the people we think are against us? What's the evidence?" she asked as she chewed intently on the end of a pen. Goten grimaced—he hated when she did that. Pan had a habit of biting pens until they were unrecognizable, even exploding at times. {_Why does she do that? At least I didn't turn out like that.} _Goten knew he was a bit of a mess, yes, but at least he wasn't a pen biter.

"Well," he began, "these people were strongly opposed to Trunks succeeding Bulma. My best guess is that they wanted to run the company themselves, now that she is out of the picture."

"But why wait until Bulma resigned?" Pan questioned, as she paced about the large office. "Why not do away with the company after it left the hands of Dr. Briefs?"

"Pan, you're forgetting—Bulma was a powerhouse. She had all the directors under control and didn't let them toy around with her. Capsule Corps was growing tremendously, and she knew they couldn't take advantage of her like they did her father. Dr. Briefs made the name but Bulma cemented the legacy. Pure genius and an iron fist, that's what made Capsule Corps what it is today." Goten explained, propping his feet on his desk. Pan grimaced, _I don't even want to know where your feet have been._

"You're a slob, uncle. Put your feet down. I swear you have no right to be my uncle when you always act like a child." She chided, tapping his leg with her chewed up pen. Goten ignored her, flipping through the pages in front of him. She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the windowsill.

"Okay, so she had them by the balls for what, 30 years? So they expected Trunks to be a pussy? Can't say I blame them for that." Pan said. Goten glared at her, clearly fed up with her jokes.

"Okay, okay, no more joking around. I get what's going on Goten." Pan reassured. "I'm simply asking what else links them together besides the fact that they've tried something like this before?"

"This," Goten said, passing the file he was examining. "If you look at the file, you'll find the photos. The legal affairs director was seen with the director of finance and an associate from Idari."

"Idari? Isn't that the big investment firm?" Pan questioned, as she examined the contents.

"Yeah, and they're using their influence so they can force shareholders into a buyout. They convince gullible ones that there's a huge profit in it for them," he continued. "All the shares will go to one person who gets it at a fraction of the cost. They will then become the majority shareholder and take the company from our hands. The others think that the company will just see a change of hands, but instead of holding true to their end, they take the company for themselves and dissolve it. Usually they sell it, so they make a greater profit. Those involved will probably get such a small percentage of the money they make that it's hard to even see why they'd do it."

"_So _just fire your seedy directors!" Goten sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Pan was really testing his patience. Was he really right in bringing her halfway across the world?

"Pan, are you new to this or something? Is Region 27 that different from West City?" She rolled her eyes, thoroughly irritated with him. Shaking his head, Goten went on. "I've been working with Uub, and I found out that the associate you see here was the son of Professor Brief's rival. He wishes to destroy Capsule Corps for good, to finish the job his father couldn't. His brother is the CEO of the firm and they're known for their cruelty in their business transactions."

"Right, Uub is a detective now. How's that going for him? And why are the directors getting involved with Idari in the first place if all this information is common knowledge?" she questioned.

"Simple," he began, staring intently at his *very* clueless niece.

"They want to see Capsule Corps fall. At any cost."

* * *

It wasn't even noon, and Trunks was drowning in work. Another phone call, another meeting, another secretary from Kami-knows-where trying to hit on him. All he wanted to do at that moment was tear off the suffocating device they called a tie and break free through the windows. But he wasn't 22 anymore, and he wasn't working under his mother. To say that he missed having her in charge was an understatement. The senior executives never took him seriously. They thought he was young, immature—stupid. His mother had ruled with an iron fist, but next to her, his presence paled in comparison.

For instance, at that very moment as he sat in his chair debating the consequences of his great escape, in came in the director of legal affairs. Trunks hated the overstuffed buffoon. He belonged more on a table with an apple in his mouth than in Capsule Corps. The director's face was red and splotchy, as if he had just run a marathon, while in fact, it was a short walk from the elevator. He donned the most atrocious suit: a most delightful shade of barf green and _the perfect size._ Trunks covered his face with his papers, fighting the urge not to laugh. The director hated him enough as it was. He didn't need to add anything else to his list of complaints.

"Mr. Briefs," the director interrupted, his breaths shallow as he began to cool off. "In regard to the last meeting—"

"Yes, Director Gochu. I understand you don't see the point of allocating the excess funds to different branches. I just don't see the point of your plan." Trunks stated plainly. He knew exactly what the director wanted to do with the excess funds. Director Gochu only wanted the money to go towards a bonus for the directors. Trunks knew many of the directors wished to line their own pockets before they sold off Capsule Corps to the highest bidder. It seemed to be that the head of the whole operation was standing in his office, obstructing the company's growth in any way possible. It was hard having a director of finance who cared not for the company, but it was so much harder to fire a director who had so much influence both inside, and outside of Capsule Corps.

"But why should we deviate from what we've been doing? It's working, is it not? We should be content with the success of Capsule Corps and reward those who worked hard this year. Why go into something so high in risk? Investing in a new market?! Preposterous, we'd just be putting ourselves at a greater chance of losing money!" Gochu argued, slamming his fist on Trunk's desk. Trunks grimaced, he hated when they stormed in just to slam his poor desk. What did it ever do to them?

"But Director Gochu, I believe the plan I have drafted with the help of other board members would strengthen the company. If only we could have your support, it would greatly benefit Capsule Corps and secure its future." Trunks argued. "We need to expand and adapt to the changing environment to show that we aren't a one hit wonder."

"I won't have it, Mr. Briefs," he continued angrily. "It puts our company at a liability, and it's too risky. This isn't the last you'll hear of this. Be ready—if you continue to push for increased risk you might find yourself without a company to play house in." The director marched off, patently enraged at Trunks' insistence to oppose him.

"I mean, if we'd invested in the company that makes your suit's buttons, we could be filthy rich. Those things are durable as hell." Trunks said to himself as he sifted through the papers in front of him.

"I'm sorry, what was that _Mr. Briefs?_" the director sneered as he turned around. Trunks looked up, feigning innocence. Those peach colored buttons were true warriors. The fabric seemed ready to give way any second, but the buttons stayed fast. {_I really should look into that—the fabric too}_ he thought. Waving the overgrown toad off, he dismissed him from his office. His secretary was already at the door, waiting to escort the director to his next destination.

Trunks sighed in relief. The encounter was brief but no doubt stressful. It made it all the more obvious that they needed to act fast.

But how the hell was he supposed to fix the problem? He couldn't collect the dragon balls and wish them all away—though a very tempting idea, with much less stress involved. But he had to prove to himself that he was capable of overcoming the obstacles ahead of him. He wanted to show everyone (but most importantly himself) that he wasn't just a product of nepotism, and that he was a good CEO. He pushed back his chair, tapping his pen on his chin. How was he going to stop the directors from destroying the company?

To be honest, he didn't know if he could.

* * *

**A/N: Hey Guys! I hope you enjoyed the second installment of **_**Mime**_**! **

_Goten: So we're not going to talk about how unfair it is that __**I **__have to deal with these kids? _

_Trunks: Hey, she's the only __**kid **__here. I am a grown man, capable of dealing with my issues._

_Pan: Is that why you couldn't keep your mouth shut on the elevator?_

_Trunks: *feigning innocence* I didn't do anything wrong_

_Pan: You're right. I blame Kami for letting you exist._

_Trunks: *sticks tongue out* You're a meanie! _

_Goten *Rolls eyes* Like I said, kids. _

**Our sincerest apologies to Goten from us at Management. They are truly insufferable. **

_Goten: Please come back for more! 1 review= 1 prayer for my poor soul T-T_


	4. The Weekend

DISCLAIMER: I can't even afford a coffee nowadays, you expect me to own DBZ? Well I don't. *I wish I did, smh*

**Chapter Three: The Weekend**

* * *

It had been 3 months since Pan started working as 'Goten's secretary'. It wasn't a bad job: she had a decent salary and she got to spend time with one of her favorite people on earth. Her uncle was very good at his job, and much to her surprise, he kept everything in order. During the day, she was his secretary, running errands and organizing countless meetings. Once everyone else left for the day, Pan was back to being a business process consultant. She was a one-woman team, analyzing the use of resources and manpower, drafting plans for the future structure of Capsule Corps. On top of that, she had the task of convincing the impressionable shareholders who had sided with Idari.

She didn't run into _him_ after the elevator incident. Business did as business does and got very busy, and neither had the time to be fooling around. Avoiding each other was key. Not only did it mean no arguments in the morning, but it also meant that they were less likely to acknowledge the shitshow that went down eight years before. But from her view across the hall she still saw him day in and out, trapped in his office. She wondered if he ever moved from his chair because he was so buried in work. It was enough to handle a company the size of Capsule Corps, and to work on dismantling corruption at the same time? Well it was crazy!

Not that she felt bad for him. Or anything.

Besides, it was the weekend—her first free weekend in _weeks_! As Pan headed home from her long day at work, she began to plan all the things she would do for the next three days. Her excitement was unparalleled, like a child awaiting gifts from Saint Nicholas. She had plans for a night out with the girls and she couldn't wait to hit the town. But as it would be, the minute she turned the keys, Pan knocked out on her bed and proceeded to sleep for the weeks she had missed.

* * *

She joined the living world at around 3 in the morning, her body one with her bed. The city outside was still bustling, with cars honking and people screaming. She scowled as a rowdy group on the curb got louder and louder. It sounded like a fight was about to start as the cries of drunken men reached her room. The window was closed, for Kami's sake! How did she hear it so clearly in her apartment? Covering her head with a pillow did nothing to lessen the disturbance, so she begrudgingly got out of her comfy bed. Oh, how she wished she could go back to her life in Canada! _Region 27_, she reminisced. Though she could sleep through the night with the incessant distractions, West City still needed some getting used to. It had been so long since she lived the big city life that everything was foreign to her. Even though she worked in the capital of her province back in Canada, she commuted from the suburbs, 30 minutes from the main office. Here, she was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life, which was draining to say the least.

Pan glanced at her phone- 16 missed calls. Bra was going to wring her neck later on. She had forgotten entirely about her promise to go hang out with Bra and Marron. Pan grimaced as she realized she still had the clothes on from earlier in the day. She _hated_ wearing her outside clothes, especially on her bed. _Gotta change those sheets later, _she thought, making a mental note for herself.

She was a neat freak of sorts, living in her own organized chaos. Pan appreciated a clean room, even though her own remained in constant disarray. There was always a lamp on the floor, mismatched slippers and empty tissue boxes littered across—but her bed was her sanctuary.

It seemed out of place in the disheveled room. It was a queen bed frame fitted with a tall, plush mattress. Her comforters were pristine: always clean and fluffy, and always neatly arranged. She prided herself in keeping her bed in perfect condition. It was the only thing she could really control in her life. Her job was unpredictable, and her family was the definition of strange and the rest of her life was just as crazy as her apartment. Though Pan loved the life she made for herself, she couldn't help but wish for a little more simplicity.

She peeled off her work clothes and tossed it in the laundry bin in the corner of her room. She slipped on a robe and grabbing a fresh towel, she hopped into the shower and turned on the water. It would take a while before it was hot so Pan decided she would start her weekend with a little late night pampering. She was going to shave her legs, exfoliate her body and use her favorite smell goods! Pan was already giddy at the thought of slipping into fresh sheets with a freshly pampered self. She worked her ass off day and night—she deserved it!

Showers were the best place to think, but thinking was the last thing on her mind. Because if Pan let herself think, her mind would wander to a certain purple haired asshole she shared a workspace with. Stepping into the shower, she let the warm water cascade over her body. She began to work on her pamper session, grabbing her exfoliant and rubbing it all over her body

Pan never thought she would see Trunks again in her life. Well, not _never_, but for a good period of time—not 5 years! And definitely not while working for him! The very thought of Trunks made her blood boil! She scowled as she switched her products to shave her legs. Granted, she didn't always hate him. They were good friends at one point, best friends even. Growing up they were inseparable, despite their difference in age.

But what had changed?

What had driven the two so far apart? Her heart ached, her chest heavy with regret. Not a day passed by that she didn't remember what had happened, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Being back didn't help at all, it made is worse. _{Obviously, Pan,}_ she thought. _{Did you think it was going to be flowers and sprinkles?}_ The warm water made its way through her hair, slowly soothing her pains as it took away the suds and conditioner.

Could they ever be the same?

Stepping out of the shower, Pan wrapped herself in her towel and proceeded to work on her hair. She used to hate her curly hair growing up. It was disobedient and had a mind of its own. She constantly was made fun of at school. Kids were mean and loved pointing out differences in people. Pan was the crazy strong girl with the outrageous curls and terrible temper. Boys were scared of her and girls were cruel in their incessant jabs. Her grandfather wasn't the most observant person out there, but he knew when something was up with his granddaughter. It was he who had given her the orange bandana made from her gi to hold back her mane. _You're a warrior, Pan. A Saiyan warrior. Always remember that. To embrace your qualities and to make your weaknesses your strengths: that's what makes a warrior great. And Saiyan warriors hold their beauty in a different way. Don't fall into the nonsense these girls are talking about—you're gorgeous no matter what. Hey, at least you don't have my hair. Now that would be tragic!_

It was those words that carried her through her childhood. They gave her a new strength, a new determination. She was going to be the strongest warrior possible, and she wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of her goal.

Anyone but herself.

Funny how the demons inside are uglier than the ones you see outside.

She looked outside the window to see the sky beginning to open its eyes. The sun had not yet risen completely, but far into the horizon, one could see the faint outline of the star. In her bathroom, the clock's hands pointed to five- she used to train at this time years before. Lightly squeezing her arms, she sighed in disappointment. She had really let herself go. Why did she ever stop what she had loved so much?

Growing up, Pan hated how her father disapproved of her training. He used to be the strongest in their side of the universe, for Kami's sake! Everyone went on about the stories of his immense strength and power, but Pan saw none of it. If it was ever there, he had wasted it all. Her father was attached to his books and gave little care for anything else. As much as he would deny it, Gohan was the mirror image of his mother. Education was the most important thing for him. He entertained Pan in the idea of training her, but after a few years he refused to continue her lessons.

"_Pan, it's a distraction! You need to stop sneaking out to train! How will you ever pass your exams if you don't study?!"_ _Gohan shouted._

_The 12-year-old rolled her eyes, her father didn't want her to be a weakling like Trunks, right? "Dad, what do you mean, of course I'll study! I always study. But you gotta let me train, you just gotta! It's not fair! What if something bad happens like all the stuff Grandpa told me about? How are we gonna fight against it?" she argued stubbornly. _

_Gohan felt his hand collide with her face before he could stop himself. A seed of remorse had already planted itself in his heart. The force of his blow left his hand stinging, and he could see his daughter's face begin to flush red. He didn't need her to cry out to know he had hurt her. _

_Pan clutched her cheek, tears quickly forming in her eyes. Did- did her father just slap her?_

"_Pan, I will __**not**__ hear that excuse." He warned, regaining his composure. "We are __**fine.**__ There is nothing to be afraid of. You want to waste your time training for some imaginary threat—fine by me. But when you realize your mistake, it'll be too late." He warned, turning to leave the room. The door slammed shut and with it the echo of her father's words. _

Too late indeed. Pan had begun to shut off her heart and her willingness to fight her father was diminishing.

It was Vegeta who saw the girl's potential. He insisted that he was bored and needed a punching bag, but everyone knew it was for the soft spot in his heart for Pan. He would never admit it, but amongst them all, she had the most Saiyan spirit. He trained her every day for years alongside his own children, refining her talent and honing her abilities. She became the finest fighting machine, a product of his own making, and Pan was eternally grateful for her sensei.

Maybe he deserved a visit.

She rummaged through her closet to find the one thing she was looking for—her workout gear. She admired her physique in the full-length mirror that stood in her room. She still looked good. The black sleeveless spandex top fit just as she remembered. Granted, she had a little more pudge than she used to, but she appreciated the curves she had gained. The black leggings accentuated every muscle. Her calves were as toned as ever, that part of her never changed. Her body was ready for a good sparring session, no matter how out of practice she was. It was late enough for her to catch the next bus to Capsule Corps, but it was still dark enough outside for her to sneak out unnoticed. Standing at the edge of her balcony with a bag in hand, Pan breathed in the cool morning air. Her nerves tingled with excitement as her ki radiated through her body, centering itself at the soles of her feet. It pushed her up hesitantly, testing the now unfamiliar waters. It had been so long since she had last flown anywhere. Her years in Canada had forced her into adopting a more mundane lifestyle. But now she was home, she was free; she could train, she could fly.

And so she did.

…

Pan arrived at Capsule Corps a few minutes later, landing in the secluded garden towards the back of the compound. Knowing her sensei, he probably sensed her ki and was anticipating her arrival. She made her way through the lush greenery to the large metal dome that buzzed with fervor. She was right—he still trained at the same time. Grabbing an apple from a nearby tree, she wiped it off on her shirt and bit into it as she walked up to the gravity room. The panel on the side of the flashed yellow, signaling that the gravity simulator was engaged. Pressing the red button at the bottom of the panel, Pan temporarily disabled the gravity. She could hear the obscene string of curses from within. It caused her heart to swell with happiness—she was finally going to train with her sensei after all these years! The doors opened to reveal the said disgruntled man. Behind him, Pan could see the obliterated training bots littered across the floor. She chuckled inwardly: Bulma must have had a hard time keeping up with an adequate amount of training supplies for the Saiyan prince. She looked up at him with the characteristic Son grin plastered on her face.

"I'm ba—" she started, quickly cut off by the annoyed man in front of her.

"Useless brat, save the sweet talk for someone who gives a shit. You, gravity room, _now_." He growled, stomping into the white expanse. Vegeta didn't need to turn around to still see the stupid grin on her face and Pan didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling too.

* * *

Pan knew she was out of shape, but she didn't know she was _this_ bad. It had been almost 2 hours of non-stop sparring and she was ready to drop. Her legs were wobbly, her breathing ragged. Sweat dripped all over her body and she was sure that if her gear was in any other color, it would all show. Vegeta, on the other hand, looked as bored as ever. He hadn't even worked up a sweat, much to no one's surprise. To be honest, the fact that she couldn't keep up with him slightly disappointed him. His protégée had let herself go, and for what? He couldn't understand certain people, and Pan was one of them.

She had such faith in humanity that she couldn't realize it was taking her away from herself. He barely recognized the woman before him. She could hardly breathe, and her face was as red as the fruit they called 'tomato' on this mudball. He sighed, turning down the gravity from 300 G to a calm 5 G. Almost immediately, Pan's lungs gave out, a trapped breath escaping her that she had not known she was holding in. The pressure of the gravity was gone, but it was replaced by another—guilt. She knew she had disappointed Vegeta. Heck, she disappointed herself! She never would have thought two hours of sparring would tire her out that easily! She watched as the room slowly normalized to Earth's gravity. Vegeta pressed the button to release the doors that connected to the main house. Outside in the hallway were two cleaning bots, one to provide a towel for the prince and the other to repair the mess he left behind.

He turned to the demi Saiyan and placed a hand on her shoulder "Oi, get your lazy ass up and get the hell out of my GR," he ordered. Pan rolled her eyes. She wasn't about to throw in the towel—she knew she had more in her. She **had** to. .

"No," she said breathlessly, "No, seriously Vegeta: I'm fine. L-Let's just go for another round, I can do it, I'm not gonna give up!"

Vegeta sighed. There was something about that brat that annoyed him to no end. She was like a stubborn insect that wouldn't go away no matter how hard you tried to repel it. Her fighting spirit, her Saiyan spirit: she never gave in when she fought. He respected her greatly for that alone. She fought hard, no matter how great the obstacle. If only she applied that mentality outside of training; she'd be better off than she was now. Shaking his head, he extended his hand out to her. "Listen you insufferable nitwit, you're wasting my time. Now get up right this instant before I blast your ass into the next dimension!"

She glared at him with a ferocity that chilled his blood. Pan hated when people saw her as a weakling. But she had to be honest with herself: Vegeta was right. As much as she hated to admit it, she could feel her body giving in to the stress of her efforts. It had been 4 years since she last trained and to start off at 300 G—the pressure she would endure in her warm ups before—was too much. Reluctantly, she took his hand and got up from the cold flooring. The stench of sweat overwhelmed her senses: she really did need that shower.

* * *

By the time she'd washed up and gotten ready, the sun had risen and the city had begun to awake. Pan frowned. They had only trained for an hour—it felt like it was so much more! She made her way down the stairs, unraveling the towel turban. The smell of breakfast greeted her from the top of the stairs. Her stomach growled in reply, coaxing her to hurry to the kitchen.

"Mmmh, eggs, bacon, french toast—and is that _fresh mango_ I smell?" she said, tousling her curls with her towel. "Vegeta, you really outdid yourself! Your favorite student has only been gone a few years you know—"

To her surprise—if Vegeta cooking wasn't a surprise enough—the man of the hour was not her dear sensei, but his son. She froze in her tracks, her dripping hair long forgotten. Why her heart was pounding, she couldn't say. She seemed to forget all her words in that very moment. It wasn't until he broke the silence, his words careful with a hint of sarcasm.

"_Good morning_ _**sunshine**_."

* * *

Why he woke up in his parents' house, he couldn't say. He usually avoided that place like hellfire. Bulla was one to harass him about his recent tabloid scandal and his mother wasn't afraid to put in her two *very cruel* cents. His father would barely acknowledge him unless it was for a quick spar. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it. He had dropped off the face of the earth for a whole year before anyone had heard from him. When he came back drunk and disheveled, his mother had cried for three days straight. She forced him to clean up his act and reassume his position at Capsule Corps. His days were spent at work and his nights were accompanied by bottles of liquor.

Last night was different. He had left work at around two in the morning. He had been working nonstop for a week and it was the first day he had left after 3 days holed up in the office. Tired could not even describe the fatigue that infiltrated every part of his body. Still, he decided to take his car and drive his way home. Without thinking, he found himself at his parents' house. Too exhausted to make his way to his apartment, he decided to take a nap in his old bedroom to leave before anyone realized he was there. His little nap turned into a full night's rest and he woke up the next morning to his mother throwing a towel and soap at him

"You stink!" she had told him, pinching her nose as she entered his old room. And he did—he had a shower at work, but he barely had time to shower before the executives came in. He had been slacking, he knew it was disgusting. But it was his first free weekend in months. If it wasn't his regular workload, it was working on his project with Goten. He was thoroughly overworked, and it had taken a toll on him.

It was during his shower that he felt a familiar ki rise in the building. _Pan._ He could tell she was sparring with his father—how typical of her. It brought back old memories, those he tried to repress. It reminded him of days to which he could never return to, where things were easier, lighter; more innocent.

He knew he would run into her. She would have to take a shower and it was already morning so she couldn't fly out in the open. Knowing her training habits, she would go down for breakfast with his father and his mother would join in later with a cup of coffee. But today, he would be there. And he didn't know how she would take it.

His mother had told him to make breakfast in exchange for 'stinking up her house'. Now Trunks had planned to leave as soon as possible, but he knew his mother would never let it down. And plus—he wouldn't dare let his mother cook for him. So he went down to the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. The fridge was well stocked, as always. He grabbed the eggs and began to make his 'famous scrambled eggs' which were only famous because they tasted better than anything Bulma could whip up. By the time he finished cooking, most of the house was awake and getting ready.

He heard her before he saw her.

Trunks looked up at the sound of her voice. It was playful, lighthearted—but the joy that filled the air wasn't meant for him. His heart ached with this realization. Maybe once before, but not now. It would _never _be for him. When she finally reached the kitchen, her face was pale, writ with pain and confusion. Her dark curls, heavy with water, began to leave a puddle on the floor, the towel in her hand long forgotten. A heavy silence settled in the room as they stared at one another, unable to react. He decided it was best for him to break the ice, choosing his words with caution. It was easier to be 'playful yet offensive' than to let his heart speak the words he had longed to say.

'_Sunshine'._

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of her former nickname. _Sunshine. _It had once been endearing but now it was like a smack in the face. Working together had done nothing to mend their broken relationship. If anything, it made things worse. They avoided each other like the plague; their conversation limited to the inane arguments that graced the floor each week. With each passing day, the tension between the two grew thicker and thicker. He knew sooner or later it would be too difficult to breathe. To exist.

To know that the one that once held his heart was so close, yet so far.

To know that her heart, once filled with undying love, was wrought with hatred.

It pained him to no end.

But what he didn't know was that she felt the same.

Neither of them did.

"Sunshine? Really, _Mr. Briefs_? You're rude even outside the workplace." She said, attempting to keep her cool. Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath uneven. Why did it have to be him of all people? Sure, it was his parents' house, but Trunks was a person who avoided his family like nobody's business. He hated people who meddled, and the Briefs were no exception.

But he was here.

And so was she.

He stared at her, eyes alit with curiosity and confusion. He was playing with her, wasn't he? But why did his eyes tell another story?

Why was it for a second—just a second—she thought she saw a glimpse of pain?

"I wasn't aware my _employees_ were allowed to roam freely in my parents' home, but we all have had our fair share of surprises, now haven't we Ms. Son?" he replied coolly.

She scowled, bending down to wrap her hair with the towel she had dropped. She was stuck. Was she to leave or stay? Pan knew she had to make her decision fast. _Why today of all days? _Flipping her head up, the towel secure on her head, she stared angrily at the man before her. _Damn it, why can't I just leave? _But Pan had a warrior's spirit—if she left, she would admit defeat. But if she stayed and stood her ground, he would most definitely use the delicious breakfast spread before her as his weapon. As a Son, she would never let him taunt her with something as precious as food. Goku taught her better than that. _At least, I think he did, _Pan thought to herself.

For a while they stood there, each daring the other to make the first move, to back down and walk away with their tail between their legs. To be honest, the whole situation was making Trunks uncomfortable, and he knew it was the same for her too. Vegeta walked in behind her, glancing at the two enemies. He rolled his eyes, _My own son and my protégée—never thought they were so childish_. Grabbing a tray of eggs and sausage, he smacked his son at the back of his head. Trunks cursed, glaring at the shorter man taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"As much as I would love to entertain you lovebirds and your little staring contest, you," Vegeta said pointing at Pan, "Need to go see the other brat. She's been harassing that blasted cellular device all morning about how inept you are and frankly I'm fucking tired of it. Your problem now. I'm done with it."

Pan rolled her eyes, silently thanking her best friend as she grabbed a piece of toast from Vegeta's plate. "Thank you, sensei," she whispered, giving the man a peck on the check. He grimaced, wiping away at the spot.

"May Kakkarot and his demented offspring rot in hell." He grumbled as he reached for his fork."And you, disgraceful spawn of mine, your bacon is _burning_."

"Shit!" Trunks cursed, turning off the heat and carefully inspecting his spoiled meal. Pan seized her chance to escape and ran off to the front door to meet Bulla. Vegeta shook his head in disappointment. Those two had a long way to go.

A/N: SEVEN PAGES AND OVER 4 THOUSAND WORDS?! It's not my best work, but so far it's been the hardest chapter to write. I have all these ideas for future chapters but I just couldn't figure out how to flesh this part out. So if it's kind of awkward and weird, I apologize, I just really wanted to get this out before February was over. I hope you enjoy, and I'd really appreciate to hear feedback from you guys!


End file.
